Fate Negative
by Cyan Cy
Summary: 2008. Tokyo. A bystander and a strange servant become entangled in a war for the fabled Holy Grail. Realizing the potential for alliances, they have to decide which Master to trust in a war where everything is on the line.
1. Seiji Dalton - The Bystander

A disclaimer:

My knowledge of Nasu's works isn't the best. This will deviate from canon, and also be entirely OCs. Several of the servants are ones that have shown up in Nasu's works (or have shown up as servants in Grand/Order) already but will be different. Whether in a good or a bad way, well, I guess that's for you to decide. Also, call any lore inconsistencies 'AU' because I probably got something wrong. That said, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Seiji's amber eyes tiredly looked up from the dish he was washing at the sound of a fight from a nearby mahjong parlor. Such fights were commonplace when large sums of yen were involved. His boss noticed the momentary slack and Seiji got his ear chewed off before obediently returning to cleaning dishes. The noxious fumes of the cleaning fluid almost gave him nausea. This went on for another two hours, his shift finally ending at midnight. The teenager sighed with relief, thanking God that he got to go home before the bars closed and the streets were flooded with drunks. "Watch yourself on your way home, Akiyama." His boss said in a stern voice, acting like he really cared. Seiji doubted it was genuine but he nodded anyway.

"Always do." Was the sharp reply given in a voice that barely strayed from a neutral inflection. The hot, humid air of the Tokyo night quickly dried whatever dampness remained on his clammy hands before he put them in his pocket and started the long walk to the train station. Kabukicho was nowhere near as glamorous as the movies and games made it out to be. Frankly, Seiji counted himself lucky that he didn't get stabbed for the pittance in his wallet any given night he worked. People hurried past him to get to their nighttime engagements. Summer had just begun, and it was a Saturday night to boot. It was a time for people, young and old, to cut loose and spend their hard-earned money enjoying themselves. Seiji envied them for having the money to waste.

Himself, he was just looking forward to getting home and getting to dine on some crappy department store ramen. Maybe his brother, Takeda, would let him snag a beer with which to wash it down since it was clearly cleaner than the water in their faucet.

While walking, his hand was ever in his pocket, ever clutching the butcher knife that he carried with him to and from work. The only reason he got away with carrying it was the fact that the police had bigger fish to fry in Kabukicho than one kid clutching a knife as he moved through back alleys, trying to avoid the major haunts of the 'recruiters' as he called them. They were movers, pushers who wanted young men and women the police wouldn't suspect to move their products through the streets for them. It was a good deal at first, he'd been tempted to do it. The prospect of a full belly pushed him to consider all sorts of offers. He'd seen where that went, though.

The men would come back, and then the unfortunate young man or woman would have to do it again. There'd be some imagined debt, more than likely. By the time all was said and done, they were selling their bodies in one way or another. The boys became grunts in a machine that didn't care for them, the girls sold themselves. Seiji still had his pride, if nothing else. He joked with his brother that it was the American blood in him, some part of his father. Either way, he couldn't bring himself to cross that line. So, he avoided the recruiters, tried to let them not realize he came through there regularly.

Eventually, he passed the point where he thought there would be trouble for the evening. His clammy, pale hand eased off the grip of the knife and he breathed easy for a few seconds. His hand went for his music player and he placed an ear bud in one of his ears. When he started walking again, it was to the tune of an old school rock n' roll song. It was just his American side flaring up once more. Seiji's boss never let him listen to that at work, said it made him lose focus and miss spots on the plates.

His boss seemed to be onto something, as Seiji didn't watch where he was going and stepped on someone's shoe. The motion made his reflexes kick in, and he jumped back several feet and accidentally hit his back on the brick wall of a storefront with an "oof!"

It was only then that he got a good look at the person whose toe he stepped on. He was a youthful man, blonde haired and blue eyed with glasses and a finely tailored suit. Despite having worked in a tailor's shop for only a month, Seiji knew enough to know that his suit was fitted just for him. Whoever this guy was, he was loaded with money. Their eyes met, the taller man adjusting his glasses. There was a strange triangular tattoo on his hand. Never in his life had he seen anything like that. "Watch where you're going, won't you?" The man said in accented English. Seiji blinked. It had been a long time since he'd spoken his native language. "I said watch where you're going." The man corrected himself by speaking in Japanese.

"I understood you the first time. I'm sorry." Seiji responded curtly, his tone as neutral as when he spoke to his boss. Glancing down the street and noticing no one else was there, he looked at the stranger and said "You should probably watch yourself around here. Lots of people looking for an easy mark."

The stranger chuckled and shook his head. "Trust me, young man, I'm not an easy mark." His tone was much less hostile. In one of the clubs he'd observed at school, they said that talking to people in their native tongue disarmed them when heard in a foreign land.

"Well, alright, then. Don't sue me for stepping on your shoe or anything. You could take my whole apartment and probably still not equal the price of those Versace loafers." Despite the comment being a joke, Seiji's voice spoke it with deadly seriousness. Seeing that the conversation had nowhere else to really go, the teen took a step to continue heading for the train station.

"A moment, if you would. You know the area, yes?" The man asked. Seiji turned back to look at him, regarding the man curiously.

"I've only been here a year myself but I'd like to think I have a decent understanding – at least of some districts. Tokyo's kind of like a mega city, so I doubt there's many people in it who know _everything_ about the city." Seiji realized he'd gotten a bit long-winded there, shaking it off. "What do you want to know?"

"Let's start with this district of the city. Kabukicho, correct?" The stranger pulled out a map of the district, holding it against a wall and handing Seiji a marker. "Could you be so kind as to circle the best places to get a bite to eat?" Seiji nodded and did so. Altruism and the hope of a small reward spurred him to circle at random one of the restaurants he'd been told was on the pricier side. Rich people's palettes required money to be spent. "And next," He gave Seiji a knowing look, "could you mark the gambling establishments in the area?"

This gave him pause. "You a cop or something? Look man, I don't want to get into any trouble with the criminals around here."

The man's smile soured just a little. Seiji almost didn't notice, but his smile no longer reached his eyes. "Oh, it's nothing like that. I'm a private citizen on holiday and I'm just curious to try my hand at mahjong, shogi, or go. Come on, young man." He held out three crisp thousand-yen notes. "I'll make it worth your time to tell me."

Looking down at the notes, Seiji said, "Make it five." Before he marked out the pachinko, mahjong, shogi, and go parlors that he personally knew about. The map was filled with red by the time he was through. Looking down at the map with a nod of satisfaction, the stranger handed over a ten thousand yen note.

"This looks quite promising. Call this payment with a bonus, young man." The stranger smiled, and right as he waved Seiji off, the clang of metal caused both of their heads to turn.

Walking towards them, as if out of a some long forgotten tale of valor, strode a man in elaborate, brightly colored plate and chain. At his side hung a gaudy sword and his youthful eyes pierced into Seiji as few besides, perhaps, the drill instructors that worked with his father, had looked into him before. The expression of irritation on the older man's face clearly showed that something was wrong, first when he noticed Seiji noticed the man and next when he looked to him himself.

"Saber, why in blazes did you decide to make yourself visible to this young man?" The blonde man asked, his anger clearly growing. Seiji took a step back towards the wall, freezing as he got there and looking for anywhere he could run. After being near quite a few fights as they broke out, he could sense one when it was coming.

"Hmm?" The knight asked. It was clear that he was confused as well. "Master, I had no clue that this boy could see me." The knight turned upon Seiji. "Might this be another Magus?" This set off alarm bells in the head of the blonde stranger. Right as Seiji went to bolt, he heard the cocking of a gun. That stopped him dead in his tracks. Seiji's heart thumped rapidly in his chest. Adrenaline flooded his body and survival instinct planted him where he stood.

"None of that, now. Turn around to face my companion and I. Slowly, now. If you so much as open your mouth, I'm afraid that I am going to have to shoot you. Understand?" Seiji slowly nodded before turning his body so that he faced both of them, hands raised in the air. "Take your jacket off. Saber, roll his sleeves all the way up to his shoulders when he does." Seiji complied and Saber gently did as the other man instructed, taking care to not be overly rough with him when he did so. The knight looked to his master and his master cursed. "No crest. No command seal. This…must be some sort of fluke. Damn it all. Young man, I regret to inform you that you are possessed of the worst luck." The man raised the gun to Seiji's chest.

"Wait!" Seiji yelled, emotion flooding his voice for once. "Wait just a damn minute! You didn't find what you were looking for and you're still going to kill me? What was the point of even acting like you weren't when you checked me?! So you can feel a little guilty when it turned out I was just some nobody in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

The man sighed. There was something cold in his eyes, but also the slightest hint of guilt as his aim lowered by a few inches. At least his words had made him falter. "There are-" The man paused. "There are factors here that you couldn't possibly understand. Protocol says that you have to die. For whatever it is worth to you, I'm sorry." Seiji's hands had slipped into his pocket, trembling while the man said his piece.

His actions were now guided by pure instinct. The man had his gun trained on Seiji but the slight bit of hesitation gave him a second of time he would not otherwise have. Two fingers gripped the steel end of the knife and he hurled it towards the other man. While the knife didn't stick, it gave him a deep gash in his side as Seiji turned and ran towards an alleyway. The man fired his gun out of reflex. The knife threw off his aim enough that the bullet only dug into Seiji's right shoulder.

"After him!" The blonde stranger yelled. "By God, Gareth, you're going to kill that young man, since you're the one that sealed his fate!" Seiji didn't immediately hear the sound of armored footsteps following him, not that he was able to listen particularly well. His mind was focusing on the intense pain of the gunshot that had torn into his flesh. It was the worst pain that he had ever felt in his life. Torn tendons and muscles moved against a shattered shoulderblade as lifeblood drained out onto the ground behind him, staining his white work shirt all the while.

Seiji stumbled against a trash can, loudly indicating where he was as he moved through a back alley. The teen didn't even know where he was running to, he was just trying to get away from the pair of psychopaths behind him with their talk of crests and command seals and other things he didn't understand.

"…he's just a boy, Varnel." The sad voice of the knight said.

"I know he is, and now it's too late to just let him get away without finishing the job."

"But-"

"Don't make me use a command seal. We both know we'll need them if you're to defeat Lancer or Rider."

Seiji heard the sigh right behind him as he turned, diving out of the other side of the alleyway onto a similarly empty street. "Fuck you." Seiji said to the knight defiantly. It wasn't clever or witty, but he didn't want to go out whimpering now that his death was looking him in the eyes.

The knight drew his sword. Even in his current state, Seiji had to admit that it was a beautiful blade. It was adorned with ancient letters in a language he couldn't read. Streaks of sliver seemed to drip down the blade towards its fine, sharp end. "I do not know by what means you saw me, you who lives outside the world of magic. If by some miracle your life could be spared, I would. Alas, you living would spoil the sick game that these magi play. If you pray, I will allow you a moment."

And Seiji did pray. He prayed for salvation. He prayed out loud. "God, please, not like this, not by the hands of this jerk and his blueblood owner."

Seemingly out of nowhere, a chuckle resonated through the area. "So rare to meet a boy who praises God in modern times." Saber, or Gareth as he had been called, turned to face the source of the voice. Seiji and Saber both saw another figure seemingly lost in time. Similar to Gareth, he had the bearing of a knight. This one was far older, though. Tired looking. He wore a magnificent white coat that seemed stained as if by black ink at many points. Underneath, the armor was similarly discolored. The man's left hand was gripping a heavy kite shield while the right gripped the handle of a sword. "Would you not agree, Sir Gareth?" The man spoke with a tone of worn familiarity, a glib smile on his face. Seiji began crawling away, leaving a blood trail behind him as he went.

"Announce thyself. I am the Saber of this grail war. Might you be Rider? Archer in disguise? How do you so readily know to whom you are addressing?"

"It doesn't matter what I am, Gareth. Saber, Rider, Ruler. Regardless, you're a dead man. The wish your master would make upon the chalice of evil is too much for the world to stomach. I'm here to remedy that mistake." The warrior drew his sword, which trumped in beauty the splendor of his fellow knight's weapon. Both swordsmen knew that there would be no more time for words. They rushed towards one another at a speed Seiji could barely follow. The swords of the knights clashed. The older man pushed the younger knight off with his shield, sending him crashing into a wall. Only the quick feet of Gareth saved him from the older man as he dived out of the way, avoiding the sword that was plunged through solid brick into whatever store was on the other side. With his foe's sword momentarily stuck, Gareth pressed the advantage and tried to cut at the man. Luck and skill both seemed to be on the side of the older man as his shield met each blow while his right hand wrested the sword free from the brick.

Now, it was the turn of the older man. He beat the younger, seemingly rasher knight back step by step. More than once, he caught the younger man in the shoulder or side. Only his armor saved the passing blows from becoming telling ones. Gareth, in growing desperation, saw his opponent raise his shield and rushed him, slamming the older, taller man into the side of another building and trying to clock him across his jaw. The blow connected and sent the man sprawling. A chuckle escaped the older man's lips as he stumbled to his feet once more. "Ah, is that the extent of chivalry? Does that desperate desire to live inside of you cause you to turn away from Arthur's ideals, Gareth? What would your uncle think?"

"You are no knight, Sir. You may look as one, but your words betray you as a man who shall never know chivalry. What purpose would treating you as such show?" The older man chuckled once more and pressed on the offensive without giving him a reply. Seiji noticed that the older man seemed to be using his shield for offense and sword for defense just as much as the opposite was true. Gareth's sword crashed into his shield and the other man took the opportunity to bring the shield up, smashing it against his lower jaw before following up with another bash to his face. Likely, the battle only went on for seconds that dragged into minutes, but Seiji felt each strike as if an hour passed. His adrenaline soaked mind prayed that the older man one even if his own life being spared was only by luck.

Another gunshot rang out through the night. The old knight turned enough for his shield to catch the bullet, causing it to turn back and inexplicably hit the man that fired it in the stomach. The stranger, Varnel, grunted in pain as the light coloration of his suit gave way to the same red blood that Seiji had been bleeding. "Use your Noble Phantasm, Gareth. We both know you won't win this battle if he continues at this pace otherwise. Gareth nodded and raised his sword high into the air. Light began to rapidly form around it, lighting up the street and turning night to do.

"By the inherited blade and the noble light, this I say, this I ca-" The chant was interrupted by a grunt of pain. Seiji, Varnel, and Gareth all looked at Gareth's bloodied chest. The older, taller man gave him a cocky grin.

"What, you didn't think I'd let you get through the whole damn thing, did you?" He asked as he twisted the blade inside of Sir Gareth. The younger man coughed, spitting up blood of his own and somehow bringing himself to smile.

"CALIBAN!" He bellowed, moving to bring the sword down onto the older man, caught as he was within the range of the attack. Seiji blinked, and the sword seemed to be gone. It carried down, the forward momentum causing him to crack the topside of the other swordsman's head with both fists. But the charged attack was gone, stolen away. Gareth looked at his hands in confusion. "…what?"

"It seems like luck favors me once more." The old knight cut up, brutally tearing the upper half of Gareth's body in two. Falling to the ground, Gareth's eyes were upon the moon as he slowly turned into light, fading until his whole presence seemed a passing dream. This only left the tall man in his black-white armor, Varnel, and Seiji, who was now exceedingly lightheaded. Crossing what distance there was between himself and Varnel, the old knight dropped his shield and grabbed the man by the back of his suit. Unceremoniously, he lifted his blade with its wicked edge and dragged it across his throat, slitting it and spelling the end of the man's life with little fanfare.

As Seiji began to slip into the realm of dreams which surely spelled his death in his current state, he glanced up and saw the man looking down on him. "How strange, to see you here. And how odd an opportunity." He said, leaning down and looking at Seiji curiously. The man placed a hand to his bullet wound and it seemed to knit itself, the flesh and bone correcting itself to how it had been before the gunshot wound. "Tell me, would you like to live? Would you like the chance, rather?"

Seiji gave him a look that, despite his current predicament and the gratitude that he felt, was incredulous. "Yeah. Yeah I would, if it's alright with you." Seiji muttered with a grunt as he felt that, indeed, his chest no longer bled.

"Ah, good. This will likely still kill you. If it does not, I shall explain our contract when you awaken." There was no more time to argue. When Seiji looked down at his right arm, he saw that in the brief second after the knight stopped talking, it had been cleanly cut off at the shoulder. Fresh blood spurted and Seiji felt his body go into the first throes of shock. The knight jammed another arm up to where the bleeding wound began. Looking over, he saw that Varnel's own arm had been similarly cut. Strange runes and grid-like patterns traced along that arm, which ended at the strange red tattoo. Gripping the severed arm to the bleeding shoulder, Seiji saw the injury knit and, against all odds, he felt sensation in the arm.

For a moment, it seemed like everything was going to be alright.

That moment passed.

A hundred thousand images all surged into Seiji's mind at once. He screamed, screamed louder than he had ever screamed before in his life. In a moment, he had lost conscious. Seiji drifted in an endless sea of memories and knowledge that were not his own. He felt the primal essence of life itself in that darkness, peering at him, awakening something which he hadn't even known was there. For a moment, he thought he saw God, there somewhere in that painful dream that lasted until time was but a faint memory. And then, startled, he awoke.

Jumping up and breathing heavily, he stumbled and nearly fell over onto the street below before a strong hand pulled him back. Looking around, he saw that he was on a rooftop. The neon gloom of the district seemed to fade. The sun was creaking out above them, showing that it was dawn. "Frankly," the man began, "I am surprised you lived. You may call me Saber." He gave Seiji a faint smile before letting him go. Seiji slid down and leaned against the chimney of the building, breathing in the warm morning air. "There is much to explain. For now, I think, we have the time to have an explanation or two."

"Yeah, some answers on what the hell just happened would be nice." Seiji remarked stoically, testing out his new arm. It was just a bit longer than his own arm had been, and the coordination was sloppy. He would need to improve that. "Can you start with why you cut my arm off and replaced it with some other guy's arm?"

"That was your chance at life. Your other option, one you wisely did not even humor as your time was limited, would have been to refuse me. I would have given you a five minute head-start. What's going on here -is- supposed to be a secret from the general populace, after all. In six minutes, you would have been dead. The arm you now possess belonged to a magus of considerable talent. Oh. Yeah, magic is real, by the way. It's very esoteric and hard to understand. I'm not an expert, so you'll have to find your own teacher somewhere." Seiji's blank expression was replaced with one of shock. That wasn't what he was expecting to hear.

"Okay, so that guy tried to kill me because I saw a glimpse into this world of magic. Do all mages have…" Seiji pointed at Saber, who smiled.

"No, no they don't. We're in the middle of what is known as a holy grail war. Seven mage masters summon seven heroic spirits to act as their servants, each one the representation of a hero long dead or perhaps yet to be. At present, including myself, six of the seven have been summoned. Considering what I know, the seventh will be summoned quickly. Then, the war proper will begin, here in Edo." Seiji gave him an odd look. "Ah, its name has changed since I was last here. Tokyo." He corrected himself.

"So why do these magicians war over the holy grail?"

"They believe it has the power to grant any wish, if they can be the last remaining magus to seek it. The prana of the other mages serves as the life blood and conduit of the grail."

"They believe, huh? Not 'it has the power'?" Seiji asked.

"Very astute. It's not what they think. It's not what anyone thinks. And very few people will believe me when I say that." More than before, beneath the defusing, handsome smile, Saber seemed tired when he said that. "The stakes are high in this grail war."

"How do you know all of this? Why didn't you just offer your service to that other guy instead of giving it to me?"

"Frankly, and this I hope will serve as the start of an honest, open relationship, he was both very powerful and not a good person. I am... atypical, as far as heroic spirits go. I serve the world as a counter-guardian of sorts. I know of the general situation in the world around me each time that I am summoned into this world. The wish that man wished to make of the grail was so deplorable that the world itself disagreed with it, and so I was summoned to kill him. If you had not been there, or if you had died, I would have disappeared, back to the throne of heroes. Instead, thanks to you, Seiji Dalton, I have the chance to end this farce of a war by destroying the grail."

"None of this makes any sense, including how you know my name." Seiji remarked, trying to process all of this.

Reaching through a pocket that was sewn into his cape, Saber pulled out Seiji's wallet and tossed it to him. "Far be it from me to not at least learn my master's name." Saber remarked, glancing back and stepping in front of an empty six pack of beer. "And-"

"And you bought beer with my money, huh?"

"The man who tried to kill you's money, actually. And here's the rest that was in his wallet." Saber handed Seiji a crumpled wad of bills. His amber eyes went wide as he realized he was holding roughly 97,000 yen. "I figured you might like that. Consider it your reward for living through your first trial, I suppose." Saber pulled another beer out of seemingly nowhere, cracking it and drinking it. "Refreshing."

"Let me have some of that." Seiji commanded.

"Someone your age? Not a chance in hell, you're not old enough yet by the laws of this land." Saber said before downing the beer and giving an ungentlemanly belch.

"No one cares about those laws here, anyway."

"Then go buy your own. I just handed you a wad of cash."

Seiji paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. "We're getting off track. There's still a lot here I don't understand. So there are going to be six other people fighting for the grail? Do I _have_ to participate with you?"

"No, and I won't think less of you if you don't. It might be for the best if you don't. Just show me where you live and, occasionally, I'll sit on the roof and let your mana resupply me. These magic circuits of yours aren't very strong, even if they came from a strong Magus. It's like…" He considered for a moment. "It's like I…gave you one wing of a F-16, and you don't have the training to use it at all. You're seeping mana, so you'd better eat a lot or your might die." Seiji looked up at him, blinking. "Just kidding about that last part. I think."

"Either way, I think it's best if you come home with me at least."

"Do you live with anyone?" Saber asked.

"My brother."

"That's where the 'Akiyama' on your work nametag comes from, I assume."

"Very observant." Seiji looked down for a second. "The Japanese…can sometimes be unkind to a Jap-American kid."

"Well, this just got a lot more complicated. To be expected when I make a Master of a teenager. Well, let's go, then." Saber looked at Seiji expectantly. "To your home, I mean."

"We're taking the train, not doing any weird teleportation shit." Seiji crudely remarked as he made his way to a ladder and climbed down. To his surprise, Saber was waiting for him below in a business outfit. He looked like some old executive. They made their way to the train station, riding in silence down a line that was surprisingly uncrowded. Seiji guessed that they had simply caught the train before the morning rush to get to work began. There was just one question that nagged at his mind, given everything that had happened and would happen. "So…you're a heroic spirit, yes?"

"That is correct." Saber replied, glancing around to see that they were not overheard.

"And you said they were heroes of the past and future. I imagine you're not from the future."

"No, I'm from long, long ago."

"Who are you, then? You seem strong. I imagine you'd be the kind of…servant that someone would want in a war for just about anything."

Again, he chuckled. "If someone had tried to summon me, they would not get _me._ The person they would get would be a forced to be reckoned with, and powerful indeed, but it would not be I, the man who stands before you."

"That doesn't make much sense, and you dodged the question."

"I shan't tell you, in case someone reads your mind – a very real possibility, whether we continue to be partners or only work together briefly. Besides, it would be a lie if I told you the truth."

"What you just said makes no sense."

"Well, consider it a reason to stick around, if you're suicidal. The truth will inevitably come out. It always does, in these sorts of stories."

"And what kind of story is this?"

"Why, my boy," Saber smiled as their train pulled into Seiji's stop, "that depends entirely on you."


	2. Rachel Holloway - The Desperate

**2006, Calgary**

They buried him in the rain. Some, more distant members of the Holloway family wished to wait for the weather to clear up. Rachel knew that they'd be waiting a while. Too long. So, with grumbling befitting relatives who didn't really care, they walked through the puddles, cold, and mud in their heels and dress shoes. The priest said a few words. The same words. Funeral rites were just repetitions of the same few ideas, even if some preachers try to spice things up. It was said and done quickly. The family performed the traditional rite of lobbing the first handfuls of dirt into the grave, and then they all left. The wiser members of Rachel's extended family left first. They knew they wouldn't be getting any inheritance. What the eccentric Declen Holloway had to give wasn't for them.

When the attorney read out his will and everything was left to Rachel, the rest soon returned to their own lives as well, leaving Rachel all alone in the city. She was just old enough for the government to let her stay on her own, a high school senior freshly turned eighteen. The reading of the will was everything she had expected, save one surprise. Her father had one last little surprise for her. Her father's attorney handed her a key. It was an old, elaborate, metallic thing. Faint runes traced along the key. She had a feeling she knew what this would unlock. Her father's attorney wished her well, said he would take care of all the financial arrangements for his old friend's daughter, and sent her on her way. By the time she returned home, she was all alone. The house that had once brimmed with life solely from her father's presence now had none. Just her, and all the memories therein.

At first, being only a child, all Rachel could do was sit on her bed and sob. What else could she do? Her esoteric studies under her father had kept her distant from people her own age, and how could they know her pain anyway when all they seemed to care about was graduation? She felt alone, utterly alone, and she held that key, the last remnant of her father, close to her chest. She slowly fell into an uneasy sleep, and woke the next day to the sound of further rain outside of her window.

She didn't know what spurred her to go down to the basement, where her father's magical laboratory was located. It was hers now, even if she understood far less than she would like about how the facilities worked. Casting her blue eyes over the different alchemical devices, her mind briefly wandered to all the possibilities of alchemy. Perhaps raising the dead would not be so far out of the question. No, the thought quickly left her mind, that was a road that a person could not come back from once they had tread it to its end. Her eyes fell upon the key in her hands, and then back up to the portrait of her grandfather on the far wall. Making her way over, she held her right hand out and muttered some incantation.

The effort caused a pang of hunger to roll over her, but the portrait moved before her eyes, lifting up and floating over to one of the nearby bookshelves, where it gently touched the ground and moved no more. Behind it was a large door, a locked door. Rachel strode forward with confidence and twisted the key in the lock. To no surprise, she heard a click and the door opened. Seeing that the room below was dark, she got a flashlight out and turned it on, walking down there. She showed less caution than she probably should have. With her father's life and words burned into her mind, she didn't even entertain the notion that he might have been doing something unsavory. Downstairs, painted into the far wall, was an image of a chalice. Rachel had seen a similar image in books her father had made her read.

The question was, what was the significance? She looked around the room and saw other things. Inside different jars were pints upon pints of liquid silver and a red liquid that could only be blood, kept fresh and at an optimal temperature by small magical seals inscribed upon them. Upon the table by the jars were a stack of papers. Beside them was a small case, like the kind knives would be kept in. Rachel turned up the note and read its contents.

'Rachel,

How am I to fill up these lines in a way that can properly express my love to you, my angel? I'm proud of you. I'm prouder of you than I have ever been of anyone. Each day you look more and more like your mother. But I have little time to write of such things. My life will end soon, and this is not a subject to tell you as I die on a hospital bed. Before you were born, I labored long to perfect my magecraft, striving to master the mysteries of alchemy, ley lines, and everything else that I have taught you. I did so with a single goal before you were born: I wished to obtain the holy grail. There is a truth to the grail that most men will never understand.

And a way to touch the face of God. This is not a thing to ask of a young woman with her life ahead of her, but I beg you, make my dream come true. Inside one of the books in this room, everything will be explained in detail. And to ensure your victory, I have obtained for you a Lion. He will be your guide, and your friend. The war for the holy grail is still far off, but summon the Lion still. He will keep you safe, as I would. Again, I love you. Of all the magic I have worked, the greatest was the miracle of making you.

-Dad'

She read the words over carefully. The sentiment, the hints of regret, the love. And her tears flowed free, sick with grief as she was. Rachel wanted to make her father happy, and if that meant fighting other mages in a war for the holy grail, that's what she would do. Sitting against one of the walls as the sound of rain fell overhead, she read the book. She took in the intricacies of a side of magecraft thought by most to be a quaint oddity, out of sight and out of mind. Her heart began to race as she realized that her life would be put on the line. When the book mentioned that the grail would grant a wish, she set about the work of creating a summoning circle immediately. She worked like a woman possessed, drawing the seal upon the floor with blood and silver with a strange, meticulous eye to detail. It was as if all in the world had faded away except her, the jars, and the cold ground that she worked while muttering incantations.

At the center of it all was the dagger in the box. It was rusted, but the symbol of the royal family of England was on the pommel. Whoever this weapon belonged to, whoever this Lion was, Rachel prayed he would be strong enough to win the coming war for her. As she worked, her eyes fell upon her right hand. It looked as if blood had spilled over her hand. Taking a cloth, she tried to rub it off but found that it would not come off. Pointing her flashlight, she saw that the scarlet had formed into a pattern, like a red swirl. So, she had been given a command seal. The grail itself had acknowledged her desire to be in the war, and accepted her as a combatant.

Perhaps summoning a servant so early was unwise. Perhaps. There would be time for regrets and consequences later. As the seal was completed, she stood up and held out her right hand, the hand which now bore the command seal, to the circle.

"Fill. Fill my cup overflowing with the waters of victory. Fill my enemies with the steel of your blade. Fill my own heart with tales of your great conquest. Fill the world with the light of the grail as we hold it in victory. The third path opens, and I am one of seven stepping through. My body shall supply your power, and your power will supply my fate. North, south, east, and west. All points converge here and now, from your body forged from blood, silver, and prana. May you enter this world and find a worthy crusade! I am your Master, and I call you forth out of time to this place, Lion!"

As she spoke the words, the circle and her palm both rumbled with energy. Sparks of lightning and mana fired off and she felt herself almost lose control of the spell for a split second before her will managed to hold back whatever else she felt. The smell of sulfur and sand filled the room as a blast of wind spilled forth from the seal, knocking her back against the wall. The room lit up brightly and when Rachel next looked up, she was not alone in the room. The man before her looked every bit the king. A white cloak trimmed with a lion's pelt and head adorned him. Below that, he wore fine cut clothes which served to hide the faintest glint of armor. The man looked to be in his late thirties, or perhaps early forties, with a handsome beard adorning an even more handsome face. A lock of his long, brown hair fell carelessly down to his chest. Before the room returned to darkness, he smiled a cocksure smile and said, "Ah, so it's time for a war, is it?" And then, darkness fell upon the room. "Hmm? Do you not have a torch or lantern in this castle?"

"Oh, sorry, sorry." She muttered, running for the door and opening it, allowing light to flood the room. Both Master and Servant walked out into the light, observing one another. Rachel found herself unsure of what to say to him, what with everything considered. "Uhm…what class are you? And who -are- you, Lion?"

The man laughed a hearty laugh, a laugh that was neither condescending nor patronizing. Her comment caused him great amusement. "You would know who _I_ am, girl? Go read your history books, read of the battles fought in the holy land in God's name. There you shall find _my_ name, the name of Richard I, the Lionheart. Summoned here by the grail to act as Rider in this grail war." He gave a polite, flourishing bow before standing once more. "So, tell me, for what aim have I been summoned? What great ambition would drive you to summon me here to fight in your name, girl?"

Rachel paused at the question. She put her hand to her chin and mused over it for a bit before finally nodding, coming upon an answer that she found to be satisfactory. "My father just passed away. It was his wish that I fight in the grail war, and it is mine that I revive him using the power of the grail." She found the conviction with which she spoke odd. She hardly ever talked like this.

"Ah, so our enemy is to be death itself, then? A worthy cause, to uphold a legacy. Why, you're a girl after my own heart. So, when is this war to be fought?"

"Uhm…two years from now? I think? In Tokyo?" And once more, she sounded unsure and more than a little timid.

Richard the Rider paused. He looked at her carefully. "You have summoned me a bit early, then, have you not? And in a place that is not…Tokyo, I'd imagine." He stepped past her, walking through her lab and paying it no mind. Richard walked up the stairs into her house proper, seeing the rain fall down outside through the window. In the distance, the city proper loomed. She lived outside of it, technically, in a suburb. "What place is this, in which you have summoned me?"

"Canada?" She asked, unsure of why he was confused.

"Can…ada? Canada. Ah, my kingdom has spread its reach far indeed!' As he talked, he moved around the house, as if he knew where things were. On his first try, he managed to pull open exactly the right drawer to find Rachel's father's atlas. Leafing through the pages while he hummed, he finally saw a map of the world. On it, Richard seemed to finally understand how far away from England he was. "Oh my, so there _was_ something across the sea! To think John was right, all those years ago when we talked of what was beyond the sea when we were boys!" Once more he filled the room with his laughter, falling into one of the armchairs in her living room. "So, girl, tell me of your great strategy. Do you mean to make for this Tokyo at once and stake your claim on the area with great magic? Why, you'd practically own the city by the time you were done!"

"Well…I don't exactly think the mages that already live there would approve of me doing that." She replied, taking a seat and trying to think of what -was- her plan. She hadn't exactly come up with one. Or why she had summoned him so early. "If nothing else, I hope that we'll be able to work together to a degree that most other masters and servants won't. After all, we have two years to get to know one another. Besides, I need to finish school before I can go -anywhere-." She'd say with a nod.

"A scholarly mind we have, and true thoughts! Why, if myself and the other kings with whom I lead my crusade had thought to better strategize together, perhaps I would not have been the only one to make it to the holy land! Har!" Richard's smile came so naturally and so easy. Rachel wandered if, perhaps, this was the easy charisma of a king. "I suppose I can stand getting to see the world again for a few years, not like I had anything better to do, decaying as I was in the throne of heroes, desperately waiting to get summoned." Richard clapped and stood up. "So, would you mind if we took a drive? I would like to stretch my legs."

"I guess, if that's what you want to do." She'd nod, taking her keys out of her pocket.

"Let me do the driving."

"But you've been away from the world for about eight hundred years. How would you even know how to dri-"

"Do not underestimate the power of a Rider, my young master!" Richard commanded before snatching the keys and walking out of the house, looking at her car and saying "Hmm…"

Rachel felt very unsure about this the more she thought about it. Richard the Lionheart had never even seen a car before, and now he was talking about driving one. Oddly enough, he knew to press the button on her key that would unlock the car, stepping in and putting the key in the ignition. Reluctantly, she joined him in the car.

The next hour was filled with surprises. Rachel came to realize that Richard was the single best driver that she had ever been in a car with. She noted that he seemed to, on an instinctive level, understand traffic laws, speed limits, and other concepts that she herself did not fully grasp yet, only being a young driver herself. Moreover, when she looked over to the odometer and the other devices reading out information about the car, she saw that it was replaced with strange blue runes in a language she could not read. Richard paid it no mind and continued to drive. It was only when they stepped out of the car that the information returned to normal, and it stayed that way until Richard began to drive the vehicle again.

Eventually, they found themselves in a park in the city. Neither of them really wanted to get out, considering the downpour, but it was nice to look at the April shower, cold as it was considering where they were. "So, your father taught you how to do all of your wizardry?" Richard asked.

"Yes, that's right." Rachel said, uncomfortable with the subject.

"Ah, then what a marvelous genius he must have been." The king said with a smile.

"Yeah, he was." She fought the urge to cry at the thoughts.

"What genius, to produce such a young genius such as yourself, with the conviction to fight for the grail." He gave her a pat on the shoulder. "He'd be proud of you, if he sees you. And he'll tell you as such when the grail grants your wish." Rachel took Richard's hand and held it. It was warm, and it gave her no small amount of comfort. For just a moment as she held Richard's hand, everything felt like it was going to be alright.

The next month of her life was a whirlwind. Rachel quickly graduated. The inclusion of Richard in her life actually made that last month more miserable, as when he manifested himself in normal clothes where others could see, the other girls spread rumors that she had found herself a new 'daddy' to replace her father. But the month passed, and she graduated top of her class.

By June, she had enrolled at a university in Tokyo against the wishes of most everyone in her social circle, plus her guidance counselor. No one questioned the fact that she could suddenly speak fluent Japanese thanks to a spell. By July, she was on a plane to a foreign land, on her way to starting a new life.

"It's going to be an interesting two years, isn't it, Master?" Richard asked, looking like an eccentric world traveler with his old-fashioned, but certainly fashionable getup.

"It most certainly is, Richard." Rachel said as she looked out the window of her plane, seeing that they were beginning their descent towards Tokyo.


End file.
